Page 15 of Rafferty

“You didn’t ask. I offered. Just shoot me your address and we’ll head over.” More silence and she doesn’t readily accept, which has me frowning. “Is something wrong?”

“What?” she exclaims. “No. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just calculating the rest of my day. I’m almost embarrassed to tell you that I was going to take a nap after I put up these rails. I’m doing third shift at the grocery store tonight to get some overtime hours, and well… I just got off shift and I need to sleep.”

There’s a twisting sensation in my chest and I hate how hard Tempe has to work to help support her family right now. “I’ll give you the five thousand now.”

“No, not until I complete the job for you.” There it is… confirmation that this is indeed just a job. “But it’s fine. Come on over, you can hang for a bit, but I’ll have to kick you out sooner rather than later.”

I don’t think to try to convince her to take the money. That’s better done in person. “Okay… send me your address.”

When I disconnect, all the guys are watching me. Atlas asks, “Five thousand? You’re paying her?”

Heat prickles at the back of my neck. “It’s not like she’s a prostitute. I’m paying her for a job. To be my fake girlfriend.”

Atlas’s eyes are round with shock and then once again, he bursts out laughing. “Oh my God… this is just too funny. Abrams has to pay a girl to be his girlfriend, he’s that fucking lame.”

“Bite me,” I grouse, but I’m not bothered by his ribbing. That’s all it is.

“But seriously,” Atlas asks, wiping his eyes as his laughs die down. “What are we installing?”

“Mobility rails for her mother. She was in a horrible car accident and just got out of a rehab hospital. Not sure her exact injuries, but Tempe had to drop out of her last year of college to take care of her mom. She has a younger brother at home too.”

Foster whistles low. “Oh man… that sucks.”

“Yeah, so I don’t mind paying her five grand. What she’s doing for me is worth it.”

“You’re getting something too,” North says. I glance at him as he’s remained fairly quiet. “That was some kiss you two shared at the photo shoot.”

At North’s comment, the room erupts into raucous laughter. King throws his head back, his hearty guffaws bouncing off the concrete walls, while Atlas snorts before doubling over as he slaps his leg. Foster’s whistle pierces through the noise, adding a playful lilt to the chorus of jeering but teasing laughter. The air buzzes with their mirth, and I’m pelted with friendly heckles and shouts that echo around the room, each teasing remark another volley in their banter.

Foster leans forward, grinning widely. “Man, Rafferty paying for kisses. Wait till the press gets a hold of this one!”

North joins in, laughing as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Imagine the headlines: ‘Titans Star Pays for Love!’ You sure you’re not setting a new trend for us single guys?”

King chuckles and nudges me with his elbow. “Gotta admit, dude, that’s one hell of a strategy. Outsourcing your love life!”

Atlas is still nearly doubled over, holding his stomach as he tries to catch his breath. “Oh, come on, Raff, you gotta see the humor in this. You, of all people, running a romance scam on yourself!”

Their laughter is contagious, and despite the initial sting of their jests, I can’t help but join them. It’s clear they’re all in, ready to back up my crazy plan. As the chuckles subside, the camaraderie among us solidifies, turning from teasing to a supportive ribbing that reassures me I’ve got the best teammates anyone could ask for.

But we have work to do and I eventually get them to focus. “Okay, let’s head over to Tempe’s. Who has easy access to power tools?”

Atlas rises from his seat. “I’ve got it covered. Got a fully stocked box in my truck.”

“Let’s do it then,” I say, excited at the prospect of not just seeing Tempe but actually helping to alleviate some of her burden.

And that desire alone tells me that this fake girlfriend thing might not be as fake as I planned it to be.

CHAPTER 7

Tempe

After hanging upwith Rafferty, I take a moment to process everything. My heart hammers harder than usual—not just from the sudden influx of afternoon plans, but also from what I’m about to admit to my mom. She only knows the quirky story of the man who kissed me in the grocery store, but there’s a lot more to the tale now.

Pushing up off my bed where I’d been reading a book, I go down into the kitchen. Mom’s at the table, her wheelchair snug against the edge, absorbed in a crossword puzzle on her tablet. She gently taps the pen against her temple, a soft hum of concentration audible in the silence of the room. Cooper’s still at school and it’s always so quiet when he’s not here.

She doesn’t look up as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. As I open it, I take the chair adjacent. “Mom,” I start hesitantly.

She looks up, a smile brightening her face as she sets her tablet aside. “What’s up, honey?”

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